Beginning Again Read Free Page A

Samuel explained. “It's a pension, really.”
    Now Papa called, and we made our way back to the canoe where the Sherwoods bid us farewell. They set off up the river in their canoe to continue surveying farm lots in the township.
    â€œLook what we found!” Elizabeth looked triumphant.
    â€œApple blossoms!” I exclaimed as I looked into the fold in her apron. “Apple trees right here on our land?”
    â€œYes,” she replied. “The trees seem old and gnarled, and the fruit will be small and scabbed. But Mama thinks, if we take cuttings and plant them in a proper field, they'll grow into fine trees. I found these onion shoots, too,” she added, holding them up.
    â€œI wonder how they got here?” I said, looking at Papa.
    â€œThe French must have planted them years ago,” he said. “They travelled along here often before Canada was captured by the British back in 1760. I bet, if we hunt some more, we'll find other vegetables growing wild like these onions.”
    â€œThis must be very good land,” Mama remarked.
    â€œPart of it is,” Papa said. “A lot of the land near the shore hasn't much soil on it, and is only fit for pasture, but Captain Sherwood showed me some deep spots that will make fine fields. We'll have a good farm here in a few years' time.”
    We stayed three more days on what Mama still maintained was our estate even though it was really a dark 208-acre forest. We slept each night in the open air, some in the bateau, others round a fire to discourage mosquitos. Stars winked down on us, and luckily it did not rain and the dew was not heavy. We swam, though the water beyond the shallows was still icy cold, much colder than in the swimming hole downstream from Coleman's Corners. What we enjoyed most was the fishing. Thick-bodied black bass were great fighters as well as better eating than pike. Once, while fishing from the bateau, Cade hooked a massive muskellunge that took my help and Papa's to land.
    â€œHe must weigh fifty pounds!” Papa exclaimed, breathless.
    Mama picked a spot where she hoped our house would stand one day, with a fine view of the river and the many islands. “I can hardly wait to see them in their autumn colours,” she said. “All those maples and oaks will stand out against the pines behind them.”
    Much too soon the holiday was over and we had to return to reality. Sadly we packed up and piled into the bateau and began to float back down the river to Buell's Bay. After a night in our cabin, Cade and I set off on foot for the McNish place while Papa took our stallion to the Sherwood farm in Augusta. The big, sturdy horse would be of great service in moving logs, and Captain Sherwood had agreed to pay Papa for the use of him. We had had a thin time for a year. Now we could glimpse an end to hardship, to making do with worn out clothes and a cramped cabin for shelter.
    At the heart of all our dreams lay our expectations for the timber on our land. From it we would make a vast raft such as we had seen passing Buell's Bay. At Quebec, timber merchants would pay hard cash for our logs, and we would have the money to carry out our plans..

Chapter 2 Farmer Ned
    I remember the summer of 1790 best as the season when I began to grow. By the time harvest was over at the McNishes, the sleeves of my coat were partway to my elbows. The legs of my breeches would no longer fasten and the ends flapped at my kneecaps. I don't know if all the farm work helped, or if I would have grown anyway had I been helping Papa in our shop. Whatever the cause, I might not be the runt of the family as I had long feared.
    The work on the farm was hard, and lasted from he moment the McNish rooster crowed until the shadows were long. In the District of Luneburg in July and August, that meant from just after five each morning till about eight in the evening. Afterwards we joined the McNish boys on straw mattresses in the loft of their